Rangers of the North
by Artemis-E
Summary: A story set just sometime before the War of the Ring, centering around the Dunedain.
1. The Dúnedain

((Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's places, characters, names, etc. I own…erm..whatever you see that dosen't belong to him. ^_^ Thanks once again to the wonderful 'Ro, for reading and commenting))

"Taurwen, don't forget to call your brother inside, as well. It will be dark soon," A tall, dark-haired and very formidable woman called out to a retreating figure in the gathering darkness of evening.

This woman was standing on the steps of a rather small and rough cottage, clad in an off-white apron and plain dark brown dress. She held in one hand a broom, but looked as if she might have held a sword and looked no less intimidating. She was not young, but only a couple places of white streaked her long hair. In her cloudy grey eyes there was evidence of a lifetime of tarrying and worry, but also a good deal of fortitude. It was a habit of the Dunedain to carry themselves proudly, as they were well aware of their heritage.

"Yes, mother," A light, young female voice carried back across the clearing. 

A few more cottages were scattered about nearby, all of them very similar in appearance. The soft yellow glow of candles was beginning to show up in the windows now that night was approaching. Around the small glade were tall and impressive trees, mostly oaks, but a few pines here and there, and perhaps a maple or two to be found. The canopy of light spring green leaves and evergreen needles knit together to almost completely hide the dwellings from the sky. Farther in the distance, the snowy peaks of the Misty Mountains loomed just visible over the treetops. They were in a valley, of sorts, protected partly by the mountains and partially by an expanse of forest to the west. 

No road led to this glade, nor even came close to it. At least, no roads that the uncommon traveler would find. The only ones who knew this wild realm and it's hidden paths well were those called 'Rangers' and their kin, and those very few who still knew of this ancient people. They were the Exiles of Numenor - the Dunedain of the North of whom few remained.

The young woman, Taurwen, gathered her cloak about her against the wind as she walked. Spring was still new, especially this far into the mountains, and the remainder of winter's cold still came after the sun set. She was very alike to her mother in appearance, having the same cloudy grey eyes and dark hair. She still lacked the sternness and suspicion that would likely come with age. She had been without great strain or tragedy to age her beyond her eighteen years.

She walked slowly, but without wandering, around the corner of the little house, and to a pile of firewood which was stacked neatly. Taurwen's father, Archall, refused to let the task of chopping wood be taken up by anyone else, and he was the one who was so meticulous about the way it was piled.

Archall's days of wandering the wilds were over. In a skirmish with orcs some twenty years before he had received nearly-mortal wounds that left him nearly unable to walk. The stubborn and proud man recovered more use of his left leg than anyone had suspected, but still he had much difficulty moving around. Taurwen had insisted a couple of times that she was quite capable of doing this particular job, but Archall would not hear of it. Even Arthon, the eldest son and his father's true pride, could not dissuade Archall. Neither of Taurwen's parents were ones to be argued with. How she could not have inherited at least a good part of that stubborness was a source of wonder for anyone who knew the family.

"Aradol," She said calmly as she began gathering up the pieces of expertly cut wood. "You might as well come down out of that tree, I know you're there. Mother said to come inside." She did not even look up to emphasize her words. An audible groan from somewhere overhead was the only sign of reply for a few moments.

"How did you know I was here?" Aradol, a young lad of twelve years, demanded from his sister. The boy was sitting perched on the branch of a huge oak that nearly over-shadowed the house. He was currently trying to sound only passingly interested in how his sister had found him out but the disappointment was all too clear in his tone. He inched down the branch and past the upper branches and leaves before then dropping more or less lightly to the ground. He made no further move foward, but after a brief reproving glance from Taurwen, he trudged over to help her carry the firewood. His dark green tunic had a new rip in it, Taurwen noticed, right above the hem of the sleeve. He had gotten that when getting into some michief earlier in the day, no doubt.

"You were fidgeting about up there and anyone within a mile or two could have heard your boots scraping across the bark of that tree," Taurwen explained with a smile and then shifted her load to one arm so that she could reach over to affectionately ruffle her little brother's jet-black hair. "And besides, I knew you were back out here somewhere not too far off. It's nearly dinner time, after all, and I've never known you to miss that," She added in an effort to console the boy's somewhat hurt pride.

"Stop that," He growled half-heartedly at his hair being mussed but he had no free hand with which to shove her away. "I'm almost thirteen, you know, and I'm not a little boy." He reminded the family of this more and more now that his birthday was coming up soon. He was looking foward to it because he'd been promised that he would get to go out with Arthon and the other Rangers. He'd been keeping up with his practicing, and whenever he had a chance he was haunting the woods around the house. He would track the deer and rabbits and such that came close, or practice his aim with a bow. Sometimes even both one right after the other.

Of course, every time Arthon came home, he was immediately set upon by the eager boy. First, Aradol would want to hear all about what he had been doing, where he had gone, and who he had met in his travels. Once he had gotten as much information out of him as he could get, he would then beg to be taught some fencing lessons, or perhaps some archery tricks that he had yet to learn. Arthon did not mind at all, having a great deal of affection for both his younger siblings and an admirable amount of patience.

"Yes, I know. You are nearly a young man. Certainly not a child anymore," Taurwen said with just enough seriousness to pacify Aradol. He was growing up fast. It seemed as if it had been just yesterday that he had only been a baby. Although Caleneth would not speak of it, the girl knew her mother truly did not want to see her youngest son go out as Archall had once done and as Arthon was still doing. Already she worried over Arthon more than she would admit, even though he was twenty-six and fully capable of taking care of himself. A grimace crossed Taurwen's face briefly, but her brother did not notice.

"I was hoping that Arthon would make it home tonight, but I guess that he was held up," Ardol admitted, moving on to a new subject. He was accumulating a almost perilous amount of wood as he spoke, and it was piling up in his arms rather quickly. "He is coming within the week. He said he would before he left last time," The boy said firmly. Taurwen was well aware that he had already, but she knew Ardol would feel better to talk, so she did not interrupt. "And he said when he got back that he was going to tell me all about that weird fellow...what was his name? Orald, I think he said. He wouldn't tell me a thing about him, only that he was a fascinating, but insanely odd creature. Oh, and he promised to bring me something from Bree. I wish I could visit Bree." An eager glint shone in his pale grey-blue eyes. He wanted to go places! Staying at home and listening to tales of old times, and new, and infinitely more exciting in his opinion, ones from his brother was only so well. Ardol wanted to have stories of his own to tell.

Like most young boys, he dreamed of glorious days as a warrior out in the wild. He knew very well that it wasn't anywhere near as wonderful as he made it sound sometimes, but to him even trudging about in cold mud all day in some remote corner of Chetwood sounded exciting compared to what he was doing now.

"I wish sometimes that I would see Bree, or even visit Rivendell one day," Taurwen said wistfully as she snatched a few pieces of wood from Ardol before he dropped his entire stack. Ardol had the good sense not to complain about it as they turned about to head back to the front of the house.

"You?" Ardol sounded surprised. "But you're a girl," He said, as if this fact itself would keep her from traveling very far from the family.

"So?" Taurwen countered and raised an eyebrow in his direction. "Just because I'm female dosen't mean that I cannot ride or walk just as well as anyone else. From the sound of it, one might think that I had just admitted that I wanted to turn into a toad, or something of the like." She really wasn't altogether sure that she would ever be able to travel very far. The people of Bree and beyond were quite different, so she had heard, and elves...well, elves were another story altogether.

Aradol didn't reply to that, though he still thought it a very silly idea for his sister to have. He just sighed heavily as he followed her in the growing darkness. 

There would be no moon out that night, but a few stars were already visible here and there in the sky. The breeze had died down, and now it was very quiet. Out under the trees it was already dark, and the nocturnal creatures were likely just now starting their wanderings. There was something distinctly unique about the place. Something about the fact that it was so hidden and remote, existing with hardly any influence from the rest of Arda gave it an almost surreal quality. Of course, Taurwen and Aradol would not have really noticed this, as it was all that they had ever known.

"It's about time," Caleneth was waiting for them at the doorway. She stepped aside to make room for them to come in. "I'd almost decided that you two had gone to chop some fresh wood for some Eru-forsaken reason." She was joking, of course, but it was not so plain in her voice or expression. "Come on inside, we'll have dinner in just a moment. Oh, Aradol, what _have_ you done to your shirt?" She said all of this very quickly. Taurwen had been the first to arrive, so she slipped on by first and in doing so avoided getting any comments.

Aradol looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, mother. I...didn't mean to," He murmured simply.

"Oh well, I'll have to mend that, and it's one of your good ones too. It's always the nice ones that you seem to be the hardest on," His mother said while shaking her head. Aradol walked on in silently, as he had the good sense not to argue with the venerable lady.

"Such children," Caleneth murmured with an exasperated sigh as she pulled the door shut behind her. 


	2. Ill News

((Disclaimer: I don't own Middle Earth, or any of Tolkien's characters that reside there. I know that, you know that, but it's polite to have a disclaimer, no?))

It was after dinner, and though Aradol had been told he would be going to bed soon, he still was going to sit beside the window for as long as possible. He would peer out into the darkness every once in a while with a hopeful expression. The young boy was now changed into an old pair of breeches and tunic. Caleneth sat in a chair by the fire mending the rip in his tunic that he'd gotten earlier in the day. She worked with the speed and efficiency of any mother who had many years of experience patching up such rips. Archall sat quietly, smoking his pipe as he did often in the evenings.

Taurwen was sitting at the now-cleared table, sitting with her head in her hands as she gazed over an old book, the light of a candle flickering over the pages.. She was looking forward to Arthon's return nearly as much as Aradol, but she was doing a better job of concealing it. After she realized that she'd read the same paragraph three times over, she turned the page and tried a new one.

In fact, the only being in that little cottage that didn't seem to be oblivious to the mood was their cat. She was white with orange and black patches and was referred to affectionately as Glamor. 

She stood up and stretched languidly from where she had been sitting under the table, and nudged her head against Taurwen's leg. The girl smiled at this familiar gesture and reached down to scratch Glamor behind the ears. The cat tended to take to Taurwen most often. Aradol had tried to give her a bath, among other things, Caleneth scolded whenever she jumped on the table, and most of the time Archall tended to ignore her completely.

Taurwen gave Glamor one last pat before looking back to the book. It was an interesting book, certainly, but she'd read it twice before, and nearly had every word memorized. She loved to read and learn about history and old tales, but hearing them told was much better than reading them. Still, reading passed the time, at least.

"Someone's coming!" Aradol announced happily just then, causing even Archall to look up from his chair. He bounced from his seat next to the window and headed for the door immediately, just barely missing tripping over the cat, who decided quickly to take refuge elsewhere.

There was one knock at the door before Aradol arrived. He swung open the door and stepped back.

As he had expected, the man standing at the door was a Ranger, clad in the grey cloak, clasped with a silver, many-rayed star. His leather boots were well-worn and plastered with dried mud, as were his dark grey breeches and tunic. He carried a traditional Ranger's sword, and at his back was a long bow and quiver of arrows beside his pack, in which he carried the rest of his gear.

Despite the similarities in gear and clothing, though, this Ranger was not Arthon. Aradol was surprised, and the usually talkative boy was surprised into confused silence. He appeared to be attempting to speak, but he couldn't quite find the right words.

Taurwen frowned slightly. She recognized him vaguely, but it was hard to tell in the dim light, and through the mud. He looked weary, only his light grey eyes seemed to be fairly alert. He was not very old, especially not for one of the Dunedain, but responsibility weighed heavily on him, that much was evident in his proud yet calm visage.

"Halbarad," Archall stood up from his chair abruptly. It had been a while since he'd met the Ranger, and for a moment he seemed more lively and energetic than he had been in quite a while. The Ranger now identified as Halbarad nodded, as much a gesture of respect as it confirmed the name.

Aradol moved back to stand beside Taurwen as Archall walked over to Halbarad, now looking more in awe than anything. The boy had never met the Ranger that was second in command only to Aragorn himself. Taurwen merely watched, her expression blank. She knew that something was wrong.

"Come in, come in," Archall told Halbarad and motioned for the Ranger to enter. 

Halbarad came in, but he shook his head as he did so. "I cannot stay long. It is good to see you, Archall. It has been quite a while. Lady Caleneth," He nodded to Caleneth who was still sitting. Halbarad's gaze went to Aradol and then to Taurwen before he looked back to Archall. "In fact, the sooner I go, the better."

"Arthon?" Archall asked. He tried to maintain a composed air, but he had long feared that news of his son's death would come one dark night such as this. 

Halbarad nodded. "I do not know what has befallen him, but I fear the worst. I see that he is not here, as I had hoped. He was supposed to meet with me, but I knew that afterwards he was coming here. I did not think that he would forego my request, but ...," He paused and held out something to Archall.

Archall's expression was stern as he held out his hand and was given something small and silver. It was the rayed star that Rangers wore on their cloaks. It was familiar to him, as it had been his before he'd given it to Arthon not so long ago. There was a silence as this was taken in and fully realized.

"I still have hope," Halbarad said finally, breaking the quiet that had fallen over the room. "I must go now, there is no time to be lost." He withdrew as if to turn around and go, but Archall spoke first.

"Where are the other Rangers?" He asked dryly, still feeling a little stunned. "Would it be wise to go alone? You look more travel-worn than usual, my friend."

Halbarad hesitated for a moment. "It would take two days at least to find help, and that is time that we do not have. I will go alone, if I must. I will not rest until I find him." Halbarad knew Arthon well enough, and liked the lad. He was an admirable sort, and it pained Halbarad to think that he'd found such grievous trouble, as he suspected he had.

Archall grimaced. He was of half a mind to offer to go too, but he knew that he would only be in the way. He would only make things worse for the younger Ranger, but he could not bear the thought that Halbarad would go alone and unaided. What else could he do, though?

"With your leave, my lord," Halbarad bowed his head in Archall's direction. "I would stay longer, but as I said, I have no time."

"Yes, yes, of course. Thank you," Archall nodded shortly in return.

Halbarad was gone swiftly, his cloak pulled about him as he stepped back outside into the night air. He blended into the darkness, and was little more than a shadow making its way across the path and into the trees. He was going to find Arthon, whatever had become of him.

In the house, a sort of numb silence had fallen.

Archall returned to his chair by the fire, sitting down heavily, breaking the spell that seemed to loom over them. He still held the brooch cradled in one hand.

"Well, it's time for young boys to be off to bed," Caleneth announced suddenly, jolting Aradol out of his stunned silence. For once, he did not even have a thought to protest. He allowed himself to be herded off in the direction of his room, though he shot a few furtive glances back at his father and sister.

Taurwen knew that she was expected to be going to bed soon, as well. She lingered at the table, though, deeply troubled by this horrible news. The look of pained worry in her mother's eyes, the tight-lipped frown of concern of her father's, and her little brother's open horror all struck her sharply.

"He will be fine," She said slowly and quietly.

"I hope so," Archall answered without turning around.


	3. A Dark Night

[_Disclaimer: Still don't own Tolkien, just my OCs. Once again, thank you to Ro for input._ :) ]

Crickets were beginning to chirp, their chorus ringing clear through the cool night air. A breeze drifted through the trees, but otherwise it was quiet.

It was a drastic change from just two days prior, when orcs roamed these very trails. Their foul presence was enough to poison the very air. Now, though, the woods were returning to normal. Just barely visible in the darkness, the slender and fleeting forms of deer passed along the path that had so recently been milling with _yrch_.

The calm night had a soothing effect on Arthon's mind, if nothing else.

He could not move, he could barely breathe, and yet he was glad for at least the chance to hear this.

It was not often that the Ranger's travels took him so far east. The roads were becoming more and more dangerous as of late. Aragorn himself had been abroad easterly, lately. He was searching for a strange creature called Gollum, accompanied often by the wizard Gandalf. Arthon did not know much of this, but he had heard the other Rangers speaking of it. Evil was at work in the far east, that much they all knew.

Arthon's journey back towards home came to a halt when he came upon the group of orcs. He had not known what mischief they were up to, but some purpose was guiding them westward down one of the numerous valleys of the mountains. It had been his own unfortunate mistake that had led him to confront the entire group, with no help at all. He did the best that he could in the given circumstances, folly or no. In the end, he emerged the victor, but at terrible cost.

The battered and bloody Ranger managed to wedge himself in the space between two boulders, where he had hoped to have some shelter, in case any orcs returned, but he could move no further than that. He knew that he was dying, and that there was little he could do for it now. In fact, all he truly wanted to do was to sleep, despite the fact that some part of him was resisting it.

He closed his eyes. It would all be over soon.

I am sorry Father. Mother...

Taurwen...Aradol...

He could see their faces as clear as if they were standing in front of him now. Archall's proud look, Calaneth's warm smile, his brother's adoring expression, and his sister's happy laugh, just as they had been when he had seen them last. He would miss them.

"Arthon."

That was...Halbarad. Yes, the Rangers…he hoped that he had not failed them. He could almost feel Aragorn's serene stare, which had always made him feel so young and foolish. They were wise, learned men, the Rangers, and Arthon still did not feel as if he quite belonged in their presence. He was a mere child, while they were lords. They were lords in the guise of cloaked men in the wild, but lords nonetheless.

He seemed to be to them as Aradol was to him. The young and inexperienced boy who wished very much to prove himself to those he admired so.

Perhaps he had accomplished that. He hoped that he had.

"Arthon, open your eyes and look at me."

What? 

Dazed and confused, Arthon attempted to obey the command out of habit. Even though his eyes were open, it did little to abate the darkness. Everything was dark, so much so that he could not see the figure looming over him. Nor did he even feel the rough but gentle hand that touched his forehead.

"Stay with me, Arthon, my lad. I am here, and I will not let you die."


End file.
